


Asphyxiation

by occasional_boy_reporter



Series: Kinktober 2018 [12]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Don't Try This At Home, Drifter Pet Names Are Everything, Dubious Consent, Early Timeline, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 03:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16317890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter





	Asphyxiation

 

   The worst thing a Risen can be is overconfident. Immortality does not equal invincibility but the two are easy to confuse after a century or two of denying Death of any final say. That's why Andal Brask likes to involve himself in something truly dangerous every few years. To remind himself. But sex with the Drifter may be one of his more ill-conceived attempts at vulnerability.

   Black creeps up to consume the corners of the room and shadowy lines squiggle over everything else. Andal rises on his toes and grips at the forearm pressed tight against his neck trying to signal his limit. But instead of mercy, the man at his back squeezes tighter.

   “You in some trouble, darlin?”

   Andal shivers as coarse hair tickles his ear.  He digs blunt nails deep into the thick sleeve around his throat. He will not panic and flail. That's the kind of power the Drifter wants and Andal's not about to give it to him for that reason alone.

   “You're being quiet tonight. Am I not up to your standards or do you just need a little less room to think about who's fucking ya?”

   The man grinds his hips forward as if Andal could forget the dick heavy as stone stretching him. Andal tries again to rise on his toes, to find relief in one area or another but there isn't an escape when the Drifter's arm is locked so tight. There's about three seconds until total unconsciousness when the Drifter eases his chokehold, taking the pressure off arteries but keeping Andal's neck trapped in the loose crook of his arm.

   Andal slumps in relief as he gulps air. Drifter doesn't give him too much time to catch his breath, just a minute or two while he fucks deep and fast. This is how it's been, Drifter dicking him hard while Andal recovers followed by moments of rest for the Drifter as he chokes Andal to the brink of blackout.

   “Gettin’ close, sweetheart,” the Drifter warns against the back of Andal's sweat-soaked neck.

   Damn if all those insincere endearments don't stir something messed up in Andal. The whole thing is fucked up if Andal bothers to look at it long enough. Which is why he prefers not to examine their relationship. It won't last forever. Just like the volcano surfing or the Arctic ski trips or that time Andal tried to tame a streak of tigers.

   Drifter spares a hand to fondle Andal's dick. Yeah, Andal's hard and he can feel Drifter laughing at the fact. Not that Drifter's gonna do anything about it.

   'Asshole,’ Andal wants to spit but, in that moment, Drifter's arm presses into his neck again and what breath Andal did have for insults is forced out in a sick croak.

   “Knock, knock,” Drifter croons with two pointed snaps of his hips. “You gonna let me come inside?”

   Andal would roll his eyes if they weren't already en route to the back of his head. Drifter always runs his mouth when Andal can't snap back and they both know it. Besides, what Andal wants is highly irrelevant the second he gives the vaguest indication of consent in these encounters.

   Drifter wasn't really waiting for an answer anyway. He empties in hot gushes that make Andal squirm and drags that rough beard over sensitive ear and cheek.

   For a second, Andal worries the Drifter won't let up, that Andal will faint this time and wake up later, alone and with a pounding headache. But the additional pressure against his neck only lasts as long as orgasm and then the Drifter sags against Andal's back, sticky with sweat seeping through their clothes.

   “Great job, babe. You should really come visit me more often.”

   When the Drifter leans back and both hands slink down to part Andal's cheeks and inspect the mess there, Andal finally makes his move.

   Andal's belt hisses as it wraps around the Drifter's neck and creaks when it's yanked taught. The strangled sound of surprise is eclipsed by the massive thud when Andal spins and hooks the back of Drifter's leg, dumping the man to the floor. Andal doesn't stop with Drifter on his knees. The belt in his hand becomes a leash and the Hunter directs the wide-eyed gaze below to his neglected cock.

   “Your turn, _babe_ ,” Andal rasps. He may be dizzy and bruised but he knows the Drifter will not retaliate when the shock in dark eyes gives way to a twisted sparkle of interest.

   The Drifter's smile is crooked as he worms a finger under the tight grip of his new collar. “How'm I supposed to swallow anything with...”

   Andal tugs on his belt until the Drifter doesn't have the air to be smarmy.

   “You'll manage,” Andal assures as he guides the man closer with an unrelenting hand tangled in the back of black hair. 

   Or the Drifter will choke on Andal's cock. It doesn't much matter which. After all, the Drifter is probably in need of a good lesson in vulnerability himself.

 

 


End file.
